


Scrutiny

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis and Prompto visit the Citadel.





	Scrutiny

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

For the majority of Noctis’ life, he hasn’t liked the Citadel. He comes back when he has to, when Ignis drags him to meetings or his father’s promised quality time, occasionally when he’s forgotten something from his old quarters that should be in his new apartment. Bringing Prompto makes it infinitely easier to return.

Prompto’s still awestruck. He knows that Noctis is a prince, but he almost never mentions it, and he never gawks at Noctis the way he does at the baroque paintings in the marble lobby or the enormous windows in the dining room. They wander into the conference hall because Prompto wants to see it, and Noctis agrees, because dazing Prompto is always fun for him. He gets a second hand kick out of the way that Prompto breathes it all in with complete reverence. He walks around the long table and lets his fingers graze the tops of the expensive chairs, blue eyes wide and staring.

He reaches the far end and turns back to tell Noctis, “Sometimes I forget how kickass you are.”

Noctis snorts, “If you wanna see kickass, you should see me in the training yard.”

Prompto laughs but counters, “That’d just be seeing Gladio kick _your_ ass.”

“Hey!”

Laughing louder, Prompto smoothes his hands over the polished tabletop. His reflection gleams in it. It’s hard for Noctis to keep frowning when Prompto’s smiling so merrily. He wanders over, and by the time he reaches Prompto’s side, he’s grinning too. 

Prompto mutters quieter, “It is really cool, though. Just getting to be with you.”

“Because of all this fancy shit?” Noctis asks, even though he knows darn well that’s not what Prompto means. 

Prompto shakes his head. He turns a sheepish smile to Noctis and admits, “No, like... that I just get to _be with you_, no questions asked. You’d think with how many people run this country, someone would’ve wanted to supervise your love life.”

They did. Noctis knows that no one was happy with his decision when the first picture of him and Prompto holding hands on a city bus popped up in the papers. But he stood his ground and doesn’t regret it. Noctis tells Prompto anyway, “Hey, you’re a great candidate. You would’ve passed.”

“What, like a test?” Prompto laughs. “But seriously, you’d think that, y’know? That there’d be some kind of... I don’t know... inspection or something.”

“Inspection?” That gets Noctis’ mind going. Prompto turns around and leans back against the table, hands still clutching the edges. 

“Yeah. You know... like... an investigation, or...”

“You already said inspection.” Noctis knows his grin has turned feral. He can see the glimmer in Prompto’s eyes. Carefully, just testing the waters, Noctis suggests, “Technically... we could still do that...”

Prompto looks like he’s game. But then, he’s usually down for anything Noctis wants. “You don’t mean bringing in the council...”

“Nah, I think I can do it myself... unless you want Ignis to supervise?”

Prompto shakes his head. “What part do you want to inspect?”

Noctis purses his lips like he’s thinking. Another step closer, and he slots himself between Prompto’s feet. His hands brush Prompto’s hips, thumbs sliding into his belt loops, pulling him closer by it. Prompto grunts and juts forward. Noctis hums, “Let’s see... we wouldn’t need much time to go over that cute face of yours... it’s been all over the magazines with mine, and everyone knows you’ve got a hot mug.”

Prompto blushes bright across his freckles. It’s obvious he appreciates the complement, especially since he thinks so highly of Noctis’ looks—he moans about how hot Noctis is all the time. Noctis continues, “And we know you’ve got a good build... decent arms... you’re training for the Crownsguard, so you’re in shape...”

“That’s only been one kind of physical training, though,” Prompto provides with a wink. Noctis has to resist the urge to immediately end the game and kiss him. Instead, Noctis decided to get rid of the temptation.

He steps back and abruptly turns Prompto around, practically throwing him against the table. It creaks when Prompto’s hips slam into it. Noctis presses a hand between his shoulder blades and starts pushing down, all the way until Prompto’s chest hits the table too. He turns his cheek to the wood, his dilating eyes flickering up to Noctis. Noctis tells him, “You’re right. Better inspect the assets that really matter.”

Prompto’s feet shift. His legs spread a fraction wider, thighs tense. It tells Noctis that Prompto’s fine with taking things in that direction. So Noctis drawls, “After all, if you’re going to house the royal cock, you’ve got to have an ass worthy of taking it...”

Prompto moans and arches his back, rear perking up. Noctis has half a mind to slap it but holds back for the sake of the roleplay. With a loving caress of Prompto’s clothed cheeks, he ducks below to unfasten Prompto’s belt. 

He drops it to the floor. The clasp clatters loudly against the tile and echoes through the hall. Prompto bites his bottom lip, which always drives Noctis that little extra bit crazier. 

He starts shoving Prompto’s pants down, dragging the white boxers with them, and stretches both across Prompto’s creamy thighs. It leaves Prompto’s ripe ass totally exposed, and Prompto straightens his legs and pokes it out to show it off. 

For a few seconds, Noctis forgets the game. His hands mindlessly roam the soft globes in front of him, fingers idly digging into Prompto’s crack and tracing Prompto’s puckered hole. Then he clears his throat and says as casually as he can manage, “Of course, you’d have to be washed before an inspection... in a supervised shower, to make sure you clean all the important parts...”

“Way ahead of you, dude,” Prompto moans against the table. “’Knew I was hangin’ out with you today, y’know...”

Noctis ignores the fact that Prompto could never say ‘dude’ in a royal inspection. He’s too busy being proud of his awesome boyfriend. With that go ahead, he takes two fistfuls of Prompto’s cheeks and pries them apart. Prompto groans as Noctis thumbs his hole and spreads it open. It tries to flutter closed, blinking shut, but Noctis keeps rubbing it and coaxing it wider. He looks at Prompto’s pink inner walls like he’s really going to grade that ass. All he knows is that Prompto would get a passing score, if not a perfect one. The council could bend every man his age over this table and still not find an ass as great as Prompto’s. And Noctis found it all on his own. While he’s poking and prodding just for the hell of it, Prompto pants, “What’d’ya think? Good enough for His Highness?”

“Dunno,” Noctis mutters. “Still gotta see how you take a full pipe...”

“Do it,” Prompto goads. “I’m super dedicated to this job.”

Noctis snorts at the idea of pleasing him being a job. All the money in the kingdom couldn’t be enough to pay Prompto for his services if they had monetary value. Getting the gist, Noctis starts fiddling with his own belt. He’s not sure where they’ll get lube in the council chambers, but worse case scenario, he’ll eat Prompto out until there’s enough spit to manage. 

He doesn’t even get his own pants off. The doors gracefully slide open, and Noctis looks over at Ignis.

In that initial moment, he’s equal parts grateful that it’s only Ignis and mortified that anyone caught him at all. 

Ignis, startled, blushing, and then glaring, tells them both, “Not in the Citadel, for goodness sakes!” Then he hurriedly backs right out of the doors and lets them swing shut. Noctis assumes they only have a minute before Ignis reenters, clearly expecting them to both be properly covered by then.

Prompto’s already frantically pulling his pants back up. But he asks Noctis hopefully, “Did I pass?”

Noctis runs a hand back through his hair and mutters, shaken, “Yeah.”

“Great! Fuck me upstairs, then?”

Noctis grabs his hand and practically races for the elevator, hoping that his old quarters still have lube.


End file.
